


For the Price of Peace

by Nimravidae



Category: 18th & 19th Century CE RPF, 18th Century CE RPF, American Revolution RPF, Hamilton - Miranda, Historical RPF
Genre: Blow Jobs, Canon Era, Dubious Plans to Seduce a General, Exhibitionism, Facials, Feelings, Hand & Finger Kink, Historical Inaccuracy, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Polyamorous Character, Rimming, Size Difference, Size Kink, Spitroasting, Threesome - M/M/M, Voyeurism, probably, we'll never know
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-01
Updated: 2016-04-01
Packaged: 2018-05-30 12:47:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6424753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nimravidae/pseuds/Nimravidae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Or, "The Guide To Effortlessly Seducing the General of the Continental Army and Perhaps Falling Quite Hard, as Told by Alexander Hamilton and The Marquis de Lafayette"</p><p>The summer's heat has made each man nearly insufferable but as the forge-hot temper of General Washington reaches a feverish degree, it is the discretion of two young men - dedicated so thoroughly to his service - that he can be gifted a moment of peace.</p>
            </blockquote>





	For the Price of Peace

**Author's Note:**

> Canon-Era threesome! The idea for this and the literal basis of this entire idea comes from Ji (@casctus) who answered my question of "should i write hamwash or hamlaf" with "both" and then gave me the actual ideal plot structure.

The day itself was pressingly hot - sun bearing down upon soldiers donning jackets of blue or red alike; drenching them down in sweat and the cool water that only gave a mild relief. There was a persistent hum in the summer air between the flies buzzing around horses (which looked ready to drop under the heat) and the chatter of the soldiers who would do the same if not for the war that rested so heavily upon their backs.

It was hardly the hottest day of the agonizing months ahead but the sun had hardly peaked in the skies and yet, it was promising to be scorching until she was ready to vanish down behind the trees. Sleeping would be a difficult encounter for most men to find, in crowded tents and cabins swarming with the heat and sweat off of bodies that would build until half the men would find solace in the grasses instead.

Not that the ground was much more difficult a terrain to sleep upon than the sad cots and bedrolls that at least a few soldiers still had in their possession. Yet, just a little beyond the camp - close enough to the bank of the river to occasionally catch a gentle, cool, breeze - two men conspired together in the shade.

“He has been ill content since our last loss,” said the first in smooth and hushed French. He was short, his shoulders thin and narrow to match the rest of his body - his face was attractive if not feminine in nature with hair held back in a queue.

The second, just as lean in form but much taller with a high brow and regal stance about himself, turned up his nose as he spoke - also in French. “This is different. He unleashed his temper upon Tilghman this morning.”

“I heard.”

“Has he complained of the tongue-lashing he received to you as well?”

“I heard his Excellency shouting,” The first elaborated, tugging at his neckcloth with a small and irritated noise.

“Ah. I see - he was rather loud with it, was he not? No, he was very upset regarding the lack of word from the courier.”

“As he should be.”

“It is hardly the fault of anyone in the camp that the couriers have slowed  so much so - I would lie blame with the heat. Perhaps his horse collapsed under him or he has fallen ill with the summer? It could be he was even intercepted by the British.” The taller man’s voice was laced with a small sigh, eyes dancing over the water just beyond his reach.

“Would you care to be the one who brings this suggestion to his Excellency, my dear Marquis? He might even listen with how taken he is by your charms.” There was a heavy suggestion in his voice, and if the other man would look over he would see his brows raise and drop at the innuendo. Improper, at its very best and dangerous at its worst.

But there was no one to be seen, no one to overhear such a delicate conversation, so he does not quabble with the man. Instead he fusses with the buttons on his deep navy jacket and smooths the golden embroidery, “Would you be inclined to assist me in - ah - relaxing, our dear General then, Colonel Hamilton?”

This time there was almost silence, weaving between low-hanging branches of trees and among the swift sounds of rushing water in the distance.

The air buzzed around them, heavy with heat and deliberation on behalf of the short little thing. He nods, however, slowly once and then again, “I do believe I would be open to such an idea. How do you propose we go about this? Asking seems more dangerous than it would be fruitful - as well as organizing a time when his Excellency is not entertaining the never-ending complaints of congress and having me draft the replies. And there is the matter of preventing our being caught, _in flagrante delicto,_ if you would - should we post guards they will certainly overhear _me_ if not you as well. Though you would be the reigning expert on that matter, I suppose, as well I never figured the General to be vocal in such regards but I could be surprised by the matter -”

“Alexander.”

“Yes, Lafayette?”

“Pray tell, how do you fit so much air into that tiny body?”

 

**_# # #_ **

 

“Are you certain this will work?” Hamilton hisses, resisting the urge to fix his intentionally askew neckcloth. Instead, he balls his hands into fists at his sides and makes a valiant attempt to cease the potential aftermaths of this events to come from running through his mind. It does not work.

“It is possible it would not,” Lafayette drapes his jacket gently over the back of a roughly made wooden chair. “If his Excellency is repulsed by you, then perhaps he will gift you a command of your own simply to remove you from the vicinity of himself.”

“Repulsed by _me?_ ”

“Well, he will not be repulsed by myself. If he was - I doubt he would have deigned to have me as much as he has already,” he explains, as if he was saying this all for the first time instead of the fifth as it was. “Do not fret, it will not end so bitterly, Hammie. I see the way he watches you, he will not reject you if that is what you fear.”

“I fear being hanged.” Hamilton lies, politely averting his eyes as Lafayette unbuttons down the undershirt he has stripped to. He only holds himself to do that for a moment before returning his gaze, recalling exactly what they have come to do.

Should they be successful, he will be seeing far more of his friend. His friend who kindly reminds him, “You do not think of the noose when you are with your Laurens.” Lafayette’s nose crinkles up for a moment in thought as his fingers pause at the buttons, “At least I hope you do not, it is a grisly thought to hold with a lover in your hold - or in the case of you and our dear friend - I suspect in the hold of your lover.”

“I do not appreciate you speculating as such,” he snaps, half-offended of the suggestion - half-offended that he was correct, “Laurens knows of this plan of yours, I might add. He said he would offer his assistance if not that four might be overwhelming. Did you bring oil?” It is a clear attempt to shift the conversation back to the task at hand and, if for the mercy of his friend, it works. Lafayette procures a bottle of the opaque liquid from his person and sets it gently down upon the more sturdy desk. The desk on which Hamilton will soon spread himself upon in order to catch the attentions of his Excellency.

Their Commander-in-Chief.

 _General George Washington himself_.

He feels abruptly sick as his mind flashes forth unhelpful images of that stoic face breaking into a scowl of disdain.

 _“Get down from there before you embarrass the both of us, Colonel.”_ He would say, standing there with nothing but contempt and disgust. Hamilton couldn’t bear the shame if he did - he would be cast from the family formed around him. He would lose it all once again and this time there would be no way to find something new - forever tarnished in his reputation and his heart.

He jerks violently - as if shot - away from hands that brush against his chest. It is a moment before his eyes clear to focus on the familiar figure before him - his undershirt half opened and loosely hanging around his lean form. There was no denying Lafayette was an attractive sight (with tongues and hearts loosened by drink and the high of a victory they had even shared a messy midnight kiss once. To say he thinks on it fondly would understate the significance it played on Hamilton’s heart.) It is only half his pressing desire to please his General (both easing his mind and, though he would never admit to anyone but the false General he conjured up in his dreams, in the physical sense) that he agreed to this plan. The other was Lafayette himself, beautiful even with his hands raised before him like he was in the midst of surrender.

“You are overdressed, mon ami,” he says, hands falling back slowly this time to help Hamilton unburden himself. He sets his stripped clothing (and, equally so, pride) around the tent. _Caught in the throes of passion,_ he echoes in his own mind, _that is what you will be_. The ribbon that holds his queue is even undone, set more gently on the desk beside the oil where it will not get too frayed in their activities. “There is but one more thing for us to do,” Lafayette says solidly.

“And that is?” It was his friends plan, his friends assertion that this shall all go as he claims and yet on Hamilton’s own reputation this entire weight lies.

But this beautiful man slinks forward none the less, his hands so naturally finding the narrow line of his hips to pull him closer, despite a protesting squawk, “You must kiss me.”

Oh, his cheeks burn. A brilliant fire burning through him because yes, he must. If the General is to believe he has simply stumbled upon the sight of two young, fair of face and lean of body, men during their tender escapades - there must be kissing. And touching.

“The General is not due to return for some time still,” he points out, as Lafayette’s hand creeps gently through the parting of Hamilton’s undershirt. He brushes against the bare skin of his side and Hamilton jumps in his hold.

This plan will never work.

By God, though, does he wish it would. “Alexander, if you do not relax no one would believe our ruse. Let alone a man as cunning and brilliant as our General. You must be standing tall to convince him, and I do hope I can be of assistance.”

“Standing… I was told - by you I may add - that I was to be lying across the… oh. Ah. Yes, I must be _standing tall,_ you may - yes, yes you can assist with that if you wish,” the hand inches up and around to Hamilton’s back, caressing his skin in such a soothing manner that it would be unreasonable for any living being to not be calmed by it. Delicate fingers rubbing circles along his spine and he shivers - for a moment - in his arms.

Lafayette steps forward, closing the thin space between them even more so, “I do wish so, mon ami. Do you think me not wanting of you? I asked you to assist me in this matters because I had believed you recognized my desires; I had thought you knew how I watch you when you work, when you ride, when you fall asleep with your head pillowed by your arms at your desk or curled in the grass seeking cooler airs? Please, tell me now if I had misread your fraternal affections for something more.” He sounds as though he’s begging, suddenly ill at ease and panicked- stepping away from Alexander in one horrid moment where he is deprived of his touch, a touch he has wanted for so long, a touch he has dreamed of so often.

“You have not," he is quick to assure against those widened and almost frightened eyes, "I admit I had assumed you selected me for for my availability instead of any affections you may have held for me. I worried that you had known of what desires I hold for you and had acted in pity.”

“I would never offer you a place in bed beside me as pity, Alexander. I care for you - my dear lion.”

“But you and the General, I thought you were more than simply there to warm his side with the women away.”

“There is the General and I, there is Laurens and you, there is Adrienne - my wife - and I. My affections for one do not diminish my affections for another, oh no, mon cher, I admit - I should have made my intentions more - ah…” A gentle hand - returning without hesitation - carefully curls under his jaw as if savoring every last touch he could manage in the moment. “The word, my dear, sweet Hamilton?”

“Clear?”

“Yes, clear. Merci.”

Hamilton gives a small shrug of his shoulder and, with a tentative hand, reaches for Lafayette. He does not chide, nor does he flinch away, but smile at a gentle brush of Hamilton’s ever ink-stained fingers along the edge of his jaw. “Do you anger at me?” He asks, tilting his head into Hamilton’s hand but the smaller man shakes his head.

“I could not, I wish I had seen your affections more clearly - if I had then you would return my intentions and we could have time to explore each other. But I fear we do not have such time here, not now.”

“No, we do not. Though we can savor what we have - shall I repeat my request?” Lafayette asks, a smile playing at such lovely lips and it is Hamilton’s answer to, instead of words, place his own upon them. He does not relinquish his lead easily, no, he lets the Frenchman battle him for it with a gentle clipping of his teeth against Hamilton’s lower lip and a gasp which leads to - ah - he is much more forward than Laurens is.

The slip of tongue along his own is nearly enough to warrant Hamilton’s knees to go weak, but the man holds firm to his chin and back as he clearly seeks to devour and taste each inch of Hamilton’s mouth. It isn’t until the small of his back is pressed against the hard edge of the desk that Hamilton realizes he’s been stepping backwards - though he cannot tell if he leads Lafayette or Lafayette leads him and in truth it does not matter. Not as he lifts himself up onto it, letting his knees spread around the slender man like a shameless whore - yes this was the position he had agreed to be in already but not with such… feelings welling in his gut.

He had agreed to be held and kissed and touched by Lafayette - unknowing of his passions and affections - and he supposes knowing them now does not change much. With his hands moving at a harder pace, no longer holding him steady but wandering with the skills of a man who has done this plenty (and Hamilton does his best to not think of how those bodies could have been his if he had just _seen_ the truth).

Hands find his chest, fingers find a nipple to flick and elicit a short groan of pleasure. Then they find his back, his neck, his jaw, his shoulders. Lafayette draws his fingers across the planes of his skin as though he were going to create a map straight to the heat of Hamilton’s arousal which he has not even come close to brushing. His hands drift down to the very edge of his breeches only to return back to skate up his sides as Lafayette breaks from the kiss, lips lingering close enough to taste his breath.

The room feels cold - even with the pressing heat of summer weighing down on them, without his lips upon the other mans it might as well be the dead of winter. “Again,” Hamilton breathes and Lafayette is quick to agree, his long fingers twining through his hair and cupping the back of his head as to gently tilt it back. He looms over him, a great cloud blocking out the harsh lights of anything else that may come upon them and Hamilton’s hands grapple for his buttons; he undoes the rest of them so that he may bring his palms to the warm skin of his back. This time he kisses him with more heat and fire, a delicious drag of teeth over his lip making his skin raise in goose flesh down his arms. Lafayette soothes the sting away with his own lips again suckling the pain with great skill and resolve.

It is lovely.

So very, truly, lovely, and Hamilton is torn from two sides when Lafayette pulls from the kiss with a chuckle.

“Pray tell what is so funny that you cease what you were doing?” He asks, huffily, but Lafayette merely taps Alexander’s thigh and - funny - it is far higher than he recalled it being. He glances down, unsure of when he’d wrapped his legs so fully around the man before him - when he must have pulled him to himself, desperate for a deeper connection at the lips than what the were having.

“I can see my affections do not go unreturned,” the man says, low against him as he presses his lips back to Hamilton - but not to the man's own lips. Instead he kisses him just as ravishingly under his jaw and down to the edge of his cravat. “No, no you do not need this anymore,” he speaks to the skin of his neck before teeth catch the edge of the fabric. He gives a tug that one could only describe as experimental before releasing it to work the knot with his fingers instead.

Hamilton’s heart could burst from his chest and slip across the floorboards should it race anymore than it already does. “I thought we had agreed to wait until the time came near to divest ourselves of any more clothing,” he says, half-breathless at the treatment he has been given.

“We have waited enough - I have waited enough. I will wait no longer,” his accent has thickened in the heat of their affair and his fingers are rough at Hamilton’s throat. Tugging as much as he is untangling the knot and unpinning his cravat to toss the fabric aside.

And toss he does - in the vague direction of the open tent flap.

Lafayette stops with his tongue pressing at the very point of Hamilton’s pulse, teeth poised and ready to nip. The image is worthy of remembering - Hamilton leaning back, both his hands holding himself steady on the General’s desk as the Marquis props his body above him with one of his own steady beside Hamilton’s and the other down, just past his first knuckle, the front of Hamilton’s breeches.

The abandoned neckcloth lands at Washington’s feet.

“Please,” the man says in his incredibly passive voice, following a glance over his shoulder, “do not let me interrupt.”

The bed, small and crammed in the corner of the tent space, had been too threatening for Hamilton. Too personal, too intimate for a man who feared such rejection that he had selected the desk himself. He so sharply wishes he had done otherwise now, that way he would have the bedclothes to cover his bared skin and the clear lump in his breeches.

“General,” Lafayette says, slow and calm and warm, dragging his nose along the length of Hamilton’s neck. “Would you like to join us?”

More silence - nothing but the pounding of Hamilton’s heart and the blood rushing his ears to keep the void of nothingness from encroaching and making him flee.

“No.”

It is like taking the full blow of a cannon to the gut - exploding agony through him and this was everything that Hamilton had feared would happen. He would be rejected so clearly and painfully that he would be forced to leave - perhaps the army as a whole. Were there jobs still in the cities? If he could secure a boat maybe he would visit France. Surely Lafayette would find time to see him upon his return, right? Of course - they had just played true to hidden feelings it would be such an upsetting revelation should he not.

“No?” Lafayette echoes, the shock clear in his voice as well and he only pulls the hand from Hamilton’s breeches (much to his silent dismay) but he does not remove the rest of his body again.

After securing the entryway, Washington walks slowly, carefully, around the desk - pulling the chair back from it and sitting a fair distance apart from them. “No, I do not believe I shall join you at the present. But as I said before, Marquis, do not stop on my account.”

There is a darkness in his eye - a brand of flame only seen in the moments before Washington and his brilliant charger take the field of battle. A sort of flame reserved for taking, consuming whole and burning down entire enemy battalions and here - the gaze drags hot across Hamilton’s body and then to Lafayette’s again and it is as though the final piece of a complex story has been told.

The final stitch sewn.

A certifiable click within the two young men.

He will not join yet - he will watch.

“How do you wish the Marquis have me,” Hamilton’s mouth asks before his mind has a chance to catch up to him. He is rewarded with the faintest twitch of lips, something akin to a smile of approval and then his look turns pensive - contemplating the sight before him as one might a strange new painting.

He crosses one leg over the other, ankle resting on knee and leans back in his chair as though it were truly a throne, “The good Marquis has quite the talented mouth on him, I have learned. I do believe I wish to see it put to use on our Alexander.” He shivers, the use of his Christian name a rarity from those lips. It sound so very, very sweet and so very, very alluring in the voice of Washington. “If you would, Gilbert, please first finish disrobing him and then yourself. Slowly so that I may see all of you,” his command is low, not to be mistaken for a simple request and both men hurry to obey.

Lafayette nods once, “Yes, my General,” he says as he ducks down. The relief in his voice is outstanding, almost to a point of reverence as he makes haste to slip his hands along Hamilton’s bare chest. Up and up to his shoulders to push his undershirt from him. Hamilton assists, lifting his hands to shake the sleeves off his gaze slipping once or twice from Lafayette’s determined and affectionate eyes to Washington’s heated and dark ones.

His crossed leg makes it impossible for Hamilton to shamefully cast his eyes to his groin - to gauge his bodily reactions to the sight of the pair. So instead he focuses his gaze back on the man before him - the man who he can see has quite the sizable bulge at his groin that most certainly was not there on any usual basis.

At least not for the public viewing, of course, and - perhaps to make a show of himself - Hamilton lets his tongue drag along his kiss-bitten lower lip and his gaze falls heavy to it. “It is a shame you are to use your mouth on me, my dear Marquis, for I have been told mine is good for more than just orating.”

The nobleman gives a pained groan, edging towards being a whine instead, and sends their voyeur a pleading look. Washington shakes his head, “All in good time, my dear. And I know how fond you can become of your hand while your mouth is so busy - you are to restrain from taking yourself in your palm. Am I understood?”

“Yes, sir,” now that was a whine. It wrings high from the back of Lafayette’s throat as he hunches over to press a litter of kisses to Hamilton’s collarbone. His lips circle around one hardened nipple and Hamilton’s head falls back with a gentle noise of pleasure - sparks of such the sensation rolling down his nerves and collecting in the pit of his stomach as he is gently bit. A moan turns to a gasp and a bite turns to a tongue washing over the same place his teeth had just been and flames build and build under his skin.

“Good, my boys,” by God the praise alone could make him blush, but paired with the attentive mouth currently tracing the contours of his ribs, Hamilton’s entire body convulse with a shudder. “See how receptive he is, Gilbert; to your lips, your tongue, he shakes and moans for you - is it not such a beautiful sight, a beautiful sound?” This next groan does not come from him, but from Lafayette, teeth grazing skin as he nods.

He sounds so ragged and harsh when he speaks, “Yes, sir, he is such a magnificent creature. A masterpiece carved from the finest of materials.”

His words are met with a flush from Hamilton and a hum of approval from Washington that is quickly followed by yet another command. “Continue down his body - Alexander if you would lie back so he may lavish his attentions upon you.” He could never tire of his hearing his name like that - his legs slip from Lafayette’s waist as Hamilton lies on his back, hands gripping the edges of the desk for something to hold to as a deft and brilliant tongue cuts a hot line at the edge of his hip bone and then across his flat stomach (it was war, hardly an ounce of fat could be found on any man here) dipping into his navel for a moment to make his entire form jerk violently.

Though he does not twitch with sensation so violently as when teeth grip at a sliver of flesh just above his breeches on the sensitive skin that lies between his hips. He holds it only for a moment before lips seal and Hamilton’s back curves up from the desk with the strength of which Lafayette sucks at his skin. He can feel small veins shatter and blood rise and his voice catch in the ruined and crumbled remains of a gasp in his throat.

The skin is as red as Lafayette’s lips are made when he pulls away, though he suspects that soon it will blossom blue and purple as any other bruise would. “Apologies, General, but I could not - in good conscience- let my work go unsigned.”

If Hamilton was not so busy catching his breath by that explosive burst of pleasure tinged with pain, he would see Washington wave off the apology. “It is understood - I will be adding my own brands to Alexander in due time.”

He will? His heart leaps again at that, clearing its way up into his throat to make camp there. His racing mind hums and buzzes like storm-charged air around them - would he imprint his fingers? His teeth? A handprint right over his bottom? Each sounds just as appealing as the last but he does not find time to dwell with the promise of Lafayette’s hands at his breeches. He’s quick on the fasteners and Hamilton once again provides his assistance - noting upon looking up that the man has also shed his undershirt as well leaving his lean body exposed to the gaze of both men.

Has Hamilton mentioned how beautiful his dear friend is yet? Well - he should none the less. Gorgeously made of lean and tight lines of muscle along a long and narrow torso. Beautiful enough to scorch the sight of any who should look at him longer than should be allowed, he thinks. And now this beautiful man guides his loosened breeches down once he lifts his hips to allow for such a thing.

He is the first one bared. Lying prone on the desk with his thighs still spread obscenely and his cock - heavy and hard - against his stomach, he skips over the original trepidation and instead is launched into feeling so wonderfully erotic. Watched by one set of deep and examining eyes and one set of open and wanting ones - he drags his hand down the expansive of his own chest, twisting his neck so that his half-lidded and lust-hazed eyes may fall upon Washington first. He moans as he pushes his fingers against the budding bruise on his hip - a high and nearly feminine noise and as his hand creeps more to the side the General is quick to rectify his earlier statement, “You are not to touch yourself either, Colonel Hamilton.”

More than his given name, Hamilton’s body reacts harder to the snap of his rank than it had before and his fingers retreat obediently. “Now, Gilbert,” oh how the tone softens to someone who obeys his commands the moment they are barked, “rid yourself of your breeches and then you may lower your mouth to him. Wet his cock thoroughly with your tongue first, if he must sit up so you do not strain your neck - he may.”

There is the sound of shuffling fabrics and a content hum that could have come from either man before Hamilton sits up of his own accord, eager to not place a kink in his friend's neck. He scoots to the edge of the desk and takes in the sight as though it were water placed for him in a desert - a meal before a starving man.

Soaking him in like the first warm day after a harsh winter.

And then he lowers himself to his knees and Hamilton brings the carriage of his body higher so that he may look down at him - though it is not the sight of Lafayette’s tongue dragging from the root of his cock up to the sensitive head that draws such an aching sound of Hamilton’s throat but the sensation itself. Oh how he takes care to Washington’s orders, no inch of his length goes ignored by that sweet, sweet tongue. He swirls it around Hamilton’s cockhead and traces the veins of his shaft and even delves down to lap at his stones in such a perfect skill, that already Hamilton can feel his stomach burning so sweetly. Lafayette, a brilliant and wonderful man, moves to instead drag his pink and slick lips along him - kissing his cock with such enthusiasm and drive that it is any wonder there is anything left of Hamilton to keep.

He should be gone by now, dust high on the wind. “Will he be permitted to spend in my mouth,” Lafayette asks with his lips brushing the side of his cock.

“It depends, Alexander, would you be able to spend yourself at Gilbert’s skills and then again later?” Hamilton - for he is still young and spry - nods quickly and eagerly. Even if he is unsure that he could do anything after this near-worship, he will give it more than his best attempt and  - with his drive to succeed and please - there is no reason his attempts to please both should not bear fruit.

He can, he will, and his fingers twine down into Lafayette’s hair. Watching it thread over his fingers as he guides his lips back up to the head of his cock again. This time he wraps them around him and sinks and sinks and _sucks_ and by the merciful and great God it is so very, very good. He is encased in such a tight and lovely heat that there is hardly a thing for him to do but rattle a groan and something akin to a, “by God,” to the ceiling of the tent.

Lafayette works him down until his nose brushes his stomach and lets him deep into his throat with such an ease that Hamilton would baulk at were he not enjoying it so very much. He swallows around him, forcing Hamilton to summon up every inch of his willpower not to thrust his hips forward into that hot, wet and very tight channel. He holds him there for what could have been the span of fifteen wars before he brings his lips back to work his cock over with a fine and quick pace. He sucks on the upstroke and sinks to the root on the down and one of Lafayette’s talented hands cups and strokes his sack and with every moment Hamilton hurls closer and closer to an overwhelming flame consuming himself with a white-hot need. He whines and groans and uses the hand in his friends hair to push him closer - farther down against him as he finally slips near his peak and he is so very, very close; lingering on the edge of oblivion until - oh Lord - Lafayette hums around him, the lips sealed, sending sparks of vibrations up through his body and Hamilton’s body is taut all at once and the man swallows down around him. Sucking gently until he is so completely spent and boneless that all Hamilton can do is lie back against the hard (and cooler) surface and groan.

Something creaks and it is not the desk, an exhausted glance lets him see Washington rise from his seat and oh how evident his arousal is. Pressing against his breeches is an impressive lump and oh how he needs it - his own spent cock gives a pathetic twitch as it lies damp and soft across his belly, smearing a mix of saliva and semen as he manages to push himself back up on his arms.

Lafayette remains down on his knees - lips swollen and slick and beautiful. “Come here, my beautiful Marquis,” Washington says, halfway between the chair and the desk and Lafayette crawls to him, properly on his hands and knees, to sit on his haunches at the General’s feet and Hamilton may be young but it is still far too soon for his prick to take the same interest that burns in his stomach at the sight. As Washington leans his massive frame down, Lafayette cranes his smaller one up to meet somewhere towards the middle in a filthy demonstration of a kiss. A cold bolt of over-sensitive arousal jolts through Hamilton when he realizes what Washington must taste off the other mans tongue.

He most certainly will not survive this war should these two show themselves as such - though that could be the same thought Washington had upon entering the tent. Most certainly it could have been at the very least. He watches, Washington’s strong hand cupped under Lafayette's chin to guide him in a deep and slow kiss - flashes of pink tongue swiping across one another and slipping together in such a lovely and practiced tandem that Hamilton could not tell just to whom each belonged.

If he was sure his legs would work properly - he would join. But until then, he was content to view from a distance, watching as the General pulled his lover to his feet and guided his hands to his clothing and Lafayette, steadily and with such a painstaking care and adoration, began to strip him. So familiar the task must be that he hardly removes his lips from Washington’s to do so - only pulling back to take deep and quick lungfuls of air before dipping back in for more.

It was such a sight to witness - Lafayette bending so easily to Washington’s will as though it were the one thing he was made to do.

“I will disrobe myself the rest, my dear,” Washington says, placing a gentle and chaste kiss to the Marquis lips before pulling himself away, “if you would assist Alexander to the bed - I would not want him to believe me done with him just yet.”

“Of course, sir,” he does not move for a moment or two after, though, instead so clearly drinking in the sight of Washington undressing - exposing new scars and delightful flesh to the light of day and Hamilton finds no problem with it. The sight is as alluring as watching Lafayette undress, addictive in its newness and familiarity of what Hamilton has conjured in his dreams. He makes notes of what scars he longs to press his lips against and where he itches to touch him and where he craves to taste him as he gazes upon the beauty of his General.

A strong body was not unexpected but the one he is presented with is beyond what he could have dreamed of. Skin worn by two wars, carved into scars and marks and pocked with the remnants of childhood illness - it was still beautiful. Beautiful because it was him, because it was General Washington standing before him deprived now of all clothing that would hide his torso from them.

Lafayette had seen this sight countless times before but even now he looks enraptured, hardly taking his eyes from the scene unfolding as he guides Hamilton down from the desk onto weak legs. He walks him to the bed, slipping down into it with him. He peppers Hamilton’s jaw with kisses but the General is getting ready to divest himself of his breeches and there is only one thing he can actively focus on. And that is the view he has never been permitted yet. Lafayette seems to understand and instead kisses his shoulders and collar, letting Hamilton gaze upon the nude form of their third member. Washington has so many times been called such a giant of a man. He is tall and broad in the shoulders but trim in the waist - a figure as imposing as he was inspiring and that was noted by those who had seen him wearing his most proper of clothing. In the buff as such? More so than ever.

His body is carved of marble, though aged as he has, it retains its lovely shape and cut of muscle around his torso and his thighs are simply made for gripping against the horses he so loves to ride. That assessment of perfection is without Hamilton’s eyes reaching his cock.

“I know,” Lafayette mutters against his skin, as though he can sense the stopping of Hamilton’s heart through the divot at his clavicle, “ _monstrous_ is it not?”

“How will it-”

“Carefully,” he nuzzles at the base of his neck, nipping gently at the skin there, “it will fit you so very carefully. He is a gentle lover, he will make you writhe and twist and wonder if there could be a heaven sweeter than his touch.”

Ah, there is the ache in his chest. The love so clear in Lafayette’s voice, even as he traces his lips along Hamilton’s throat, drives a wedge through him in a reminder of their well-defined affection for one another that Hamilton merely intrudes upon - no, no he was invited - by Lafayette - he was invited to take part in this coupling he was not intruding. He was asked to come, to be allowed to twist his form and slide his lips against the Marquis own and taste the lingering flavor of his own manhood as tinged with something else.

He was asked to join, asked if he would like to be allowed to touch the body that shared the bed with him and he would very much. And he does.

Hamilton touches him with abandon, feeling the way his body twitches and muscles tighten and flex under his palm while it sweeps along his long and graceful legs. He only stops when the bed dips - a sign of another joining them and a hand rests itself high up on Hamilton’s thigh. A warm, welcoming hand thick in the fingers and wide in the palm - there was no question as to who this hand belonged to but Hamilton drew his eyes up the muscular arm the check anyway. Another hand - just the same size and shape - fit itself to his cheek and turned Hamilton’s face properly to meet his own and slot their lips together in a heart-clenching kiss.

If he thought Lafayette forward, he has little on Washington who, as far as Hamilton could tell, would do less warring for dominance and simply just have it. Pushing his tongue past unresistant lips and staking his claim to whatever parts of him Lafayette had once claimed; Washington takes from him everything he is willing to give with just the power of his mouth alone. There’s a heat and a dampness back at his neck and he thinks it Lafayette - but it could be anything now; his attentions so stolen by his General that Hamilton thinks the tent could be torn to shreds by musket fire and he would not notice. The British would have to pry them apart before he could give a damn what happens outside of the careful and precise way Washington’s tongue elicits small noises from the back of Hamilton’s throat.  

He gives a whimper of complaint when the man pulls away from him, taking that lovely tongue and his beautiful hands with him. “Hush, my dear,” he whispers, voice hardly separated from an exhale on the air, “for you will have more of me than you could dream shortly.” Washington arranges them differently, another whine rising behind him as Lafayette is brought away from him and Alexander is guided up onto his knees with his head allowed to rest at Lafayette’s thigh.

“I know how you long for a taste of him, but please keep hold of yourself until you are more relaxed. We do not want any accidental harm to befall the Marquis’ most tender parts,” he had been told. And he had nodded, accepting this instruction and burrowing his face into the soft flesh of his thigh instead.

He knows what comes next - what gentle prodding of fingers would tease and beg him open to take - or at least he had thought he knew of what would happen. Instead of the cool press of slick fingers, he was met with two large and heavy hands pressing against either side of his rear and spreading him to expose him even more so. Would Washington like to lay eyes on his target first? Well, he supposes it could be as such - but a puff of hot air over his hole surprises him more so. He twists to look, seeing the General kneeling behind him and hunching down to get closer to him, and then back up at Lafayette - who threads his fingers through Alexander’s hair again, stroking it softly.

“Do not fret,” Lafayette tells him as warm lips leave a welcoming kiss over the small of Alexander’s back, “he only teases to string out your pleasure.”

At first he remains confused, but all thoughts of anything else are dashed from his mind as the first pass of something wide and hot and wet presses at his hole and by Gods that cannot be what he thinks it! But it returns again and again, wet muscle pressing at his hole and sliding down to lap along the sensitive stretch of flesh just behind his sack before it returns to slip slick against him. He gasps and nearly convulses between the two men - only the hands on his ass and the fingers in his hair grounding him against the sensation of a tongue wriggling against him. He twitches and his back curls down as teeth nip gently at him before he washes back over where his teeth and met with flesh -- soothing with his tongue and by God, this could be too much.

Alexander’s over-sensitive cock hangs down and he can feel the curling and hot arousal twisting up through his veins again and already starting to divert his blood flow - it feels so much it aches already. The edge of pain clipping through the waves of pleasure that Washington’s tongue draws out of him and he remains only partially aware that his mouth hangs open with whines and gasps and pleads of pleasure. That and he has been drooling on the leg of his dear friend in only the most senseless of fashions.

Though, Lafayette appears not to mind as he hunches over and presses soft little kisses to Alexander’s temple. “See,” he purrs against him, clearly not expecting a response, “I have always said he is a man of many talents.”

The hotwetperfect slide of tongue vanishes once it presses past Alexander's far more relaxed entrance, and he groans - long and frustrated - into Lafayette’s flesh. But Washington simply pinches the skin of his bottom (earning a whining jolt) and chuckles in a rare sound, “I see now why the vicinity of my tent was so lacking in the usual swarm of bodies- the mouth on our lion does not even cease in the heat of passion.”

“No it does not, mon General. Sources have told me he is as vocal between bedsheets as he is shouting himself pink about congress.” If Alexander were capable of forming words at the current moment, he would snap that he was _not_.

“I would not worry, unlike you, if someone dares to pass to closely and hears Alexander they may simply believe the women have arrived at camp.”

That comment is met by a chuckle from Lafayette, and a gentle drag of his fingers through his hair, and his time Alexander is fully prepared to make a rebuttal towards this blatant slander against his person. However, he is cut short when a very slick and very promisingly thick finger presses lightly against his relaxed hole - this is far more important than his pride is currently.

Actually, he changes his mind, “I would have you know, I am far more distinguishable from a woman than you would think. In fact, should -mmpf.” There is a touch of annoyance as he attempts to keep talking despite the lips so firmly placed against his own but the fight drains from him because in the same short series of heartbeats, Lafayette’s tongue slips along his own just as Washington’s thick and long finger begins is gentle press into him.

His friend is hunched over him and he doesn’t bother making an attempt to discover how Washington is positioned behind him, not as the tip of his finger nudges past his muscle and deeper into his body. The more he slides to him, the less controlled Alexander becomes with the kiss and with the first gentle and long pump he is less kissing and more sliding his lips carelessly, slack as Lafayette does a considerable amount of the work. He even pulls his upper body more to get a better angle to ravish his mouth as Washington takes his care with the other end of his body. Caressing his hip with another hand, softly and soothing as one finger becomes two with time and they are so very thick and stretch him to a wondrous burn and Washington  _spreads_ them to work Alexander open with a gentle touch.

“You will tell me if the pain becomes too much,” Washington says, a thin lace of worry overlaying his words. Alexander can manage something of a groan that could have been an agreement against Lafayette’s tongue. “Alexander - your words. Tell me you will.” Another grunt and a nod. “Lieutenant Colonel - I believe I asked for your _words,_ not _sounds,”_ he says - voice hard and sharp in the same demanding way in which he orders troops to march through snow and ice.

“Yes! Sir, I will tell you if it is too much,” he finally manages, tearing himself from those delightful lips just long enough to eek the words out before he pushes himself right back to their mercy - one hand holding himself up on Lafayette’s shoulder while the other propped himself from the bed.

“Good boy,” that darkness was back in his tone again, permeating through the air around Alexander - sucking his breath straight from his lungs and oh by God it is good. It makes him whimper and shiver and those two fingers deep inside of him curl and press down against that particularly sensitive bundle of nerves - Lafayette swallows his cry in another deep kiss.  It’s perfect, a third finger teasing around his rim before pressing slowly, ever so slowly, into him alongside the other two - the General not easing his pressure against Alexander’s prostate. His cock has filled back to an aching hardness already, practically leaking from the flushed head as it hangs heavy - occasionally Washington ceases his gentle strokes from Alexander’s hip to brush his marvelous hand along the length of it instead.

Never too much to draw him to a quick end, but enough to send bolts of lightning through his spine and turn his whimpers to purrs. He has long since given up on kissing Lafayette properly, instead he pants against his lips, hips shifting back against the fingers coaxing him open to get just a little more speed. The Marquis occasionally gives him a few short, chaste, little presses of his lips but nothing substantial as Alexander focuses more on overcoming the burn to relax around Washington’s fingers.

Though his friend slips him closer, pressing his lips against Alexander’s ear. He nips at the lobe, suckling it just a little to make his arms join his thighs and gut in their persistent trembling before whispering, “you cannot see him as I do, my dear, sweet Alexander.” His breath is hot against his ear, not a sensation Alexander would have found so erotic if not for the worst that tumble so delightfully, “he looks upon you with such rapt attention. Watching how your body takes his fingers in, consuming him like fire again and again - I can only imagine what he is thinking now. Perhaps he thinks of how you may take his length? How your body will stretch around the thickness of him, wrap so tight and hot - tell me, your Excellency, is that what you envision?” Lafayette’s lips were just under his ear but he spoke to Washington instead.

His answer was a low grunt in response, followed in a moments time by, “You know my tastes very well, Gilbert, perhaps I should leave the talking to you during this encounter?”

“No, no - I insist. He has never heard the most filthy words that spill from your lips, how… vivid you can be when you most desire to be, my General.”

“Yes - I agree with Lafayette,” Alexander interjects, albeit with some difficulty considering Washington’s attentions, “not to strike offense to o-our favorite Marquis but,” he interrupts himself with a stuttering gasp, three fingers digging into his prostate at once, “but to - to instead hear from our Gen-a- _ah_ -General himself.”

The fingers pause in contemplation and Alexander only half-wishes they had ceased moving while he was speaking if they were going to at all. Though he wishes sincerely that they had not stopped moving at all and even more so that they did not slip free from his body despite Alexander’s desperate whines.

“Please, sir, I did not mean to cause offense if I have - I only offered my desire to hear your voice as you penetrate me,” he is embarrassingly near a whimper, despite how Lafayette huffs laughter above him. He nudges his face back down to his lap, lowering himself to his elbows instead and letting the hand settle in his hair again. “Please?”

“Needy - is he not?” Washington asks, amusement thick in his voice along with something else. More akin to a sigh of pleasure curling from his lips and some slick noise behind him and it takes a moment for Alexander to remember what that noise could so clearly be. Blunt and hot and slickened now by oils, Washington’s cockhead presses against him allowing a teasing amount of pressure before he pulls back to re-align. “It is a very good thing that a needy man is quite my favorite.”

“Then sir, should I beg for you to push yourself into me? To sheathe your cock to my body and use me like I am nothing more than an object made for you to use and use and spend yourself in - a warm body built only to accommodate you. Please - your Excellency - I will do whatever you ask of me so long as you do not spend another moment not inside of me,” He swallows lungfuls of air, desperation prickling like the sweat at the back of his neck and eating its way through his body. He needs so viscerally in the moment it is like nothing else should ever matter and he chokes on the hot air around him. Hot from the summer, from the bodies around him, from the exertion he has placed upon his body - all so hot and coming at him from every angle as though he were engulfing his body in raw flames.

He needs.

He wants.

Washington gives.

He gives slowly, paying close attention to each of Alexander’s soft and whimpering cries as he is split open for him. Hardly the head has breached him when he is already trembling, Washington’s soothing hand stroking along his spine as Lafayette’s pets his hair.

“You are doing so very well, my boy - so very beautiful and so very tight for me. Hotter than the sun, if only you could be blessed with the sight I have of you - taking me in so well. Like you were made for me, my dear Alexander. By God you are marvelous - you are a creature to always keep and please and use for my pleasure.” He speaks with such a tenderness that it only doubles the shaking, soothing the burn of being stretched so impossibly around him. But Washington guides him, a steadying hand settled on the small of his back as he lets him tense and relax and tense and relax around each millimeter of this intrusion until his hips have settled against Alexander’s ass.

He breathes.

He can still breathe.

Though it feels like his lungs could collapse and each remaining nerve in his body was simultaneously set alight like a torch dropped into a barrel of gunpowder - every shift of his body is a new world-shattering strike of the cannonball against him. Even as he simply runs his fingers down the sweat-slick terrain of his back it is too much for him to comprehend, too much for his body to understand as it flexes around a thickness so beyond what it was used to before now. Before now it had only been John, it had only been his own fingers and hurried touches in cots before bedmates returned and, with no offences given to his dearest friend, he could not come close to the size of Washington though Alexander was sure no one ever would.

“May I move within you now?” The voice from above him is so much sweeter, so much more tender, than he would have thought it to be - the hand that has not busied itself on his back adjusted a grip on his hip as though it was busying itself to distract him. Alexander tenses and nods with a soft, “Yes, your Excellency,” his entire body constricting for a moment and - in the most fantastic of sounds that he so desperately wishes he could hold onto forever - Washington groans in a raw pleasure. “You may be too much for me to bear, Alexander,” he says with his affectionate hand on his back stoking the flame in his chest.

His hips roll slowly, first just a steady rocking to allow the small aide to adjust beneath his massive frame and Alexander could whisper his thanks once they have all finished. Washington’s rolls steadily get longer and harder - keeping pace at varying intervals as to not injure Alexander deeply - until he is hunching forward with both of his hands gripping bruises on Alexander’s hips and his cock slips perfectly into him again and again and again and two hands of flame and ash guide him so he can properly be on his hands and knees - so Lafayette can adjust himself before him and Alexander does not need prompting to drag his slick lips along the shaft presented. Wetting him with his tongue, he is rocked forward gently now on his precarious balance. His eyes are hazy with dampness and lust as he looks up to Lafayette - the man flushed before him and his own smart eyes drifting back and forth from where Alexander suckles his cockhead to where Washington thrusts into him with occasional and quiet grunts. One particularly hard press as Washington pushes himself deep into Alexander nudges him forward enough to take the cockstand in his mouth deeper - and that he can accommodate. He gives the Marquis a hard suck before he pulls up from him (noting the whine Lafayette gives at that), “Your Excellency - would you take me harder? Use your thrusts to guide my mouth down onto him so that I may properly please both of you?”

“You,” Washington was cut off by a low noise, something more akin to a moan as he presses deep into him, “You have always been a brilliant man, Alexander. I should not be shocked that even in the throes of passion your mind will never cease working.”

His suggestion is met with enthusiasm and he wraps his lips back around Lafayette and so quickly he is pushed nearly half-way down his shaft, a comforting and guiding hand in his hair. Alexander has never felt so alive, so alight, so _full_ in his life - taken from both ends at the same moment there was nothing that could ever feel as magnanimous, nothing that could ever so take over himself and he finds that Washington lies. This sets his mind to nothingness, to the very darkness of the skies at midnight and the very emptiness of the bottomless oceans he is nothing but an object to be used as pleasure aligns itself along his form. He is bodiless, he must be for the fires of desire consume him entirely and burn him away and they are left to fuck the echo of smoke that he leaves behind - but at the same moment he must have a body for he can feel hands bruising him. He can feel hands pulling at his hair and pushing him down and he can feel a cock down his throat and a second pulsing inside of him. He can feel himself swallow around Lafayette and tense around Washington and he can hear them both catch on their moans. What could he have done to deserve this… this heaven. Perhaps he did die at Schuylkill River and this was the afterlife he should endure - this would be his final reward.

To think this was intended to be an attempt to soothe the General and here Alexander was! In the middle of two strong and Godly men, being taken in such ways he hadn’t known that he could be taken.

“General,” one of the wondrous creatures asks as Alexander’s lips seal around his base with a wicked moan drawn out, “I cannot - I cannot last. I beg your permission - I must.”

“You may, you may,” the other pants from behind him, the clear strain in his voice must mean he too was close to his brink. “On his face, if you would.”

That carries the unfortunate implication that Lafayette pulls on Alexander’s hair - not that that would be the most unfortunate thing as it draws another needy moan from him - to release him from his cock. He holds his face in position, second hand pumping the cock still so close to his lips that he can drag his tongue along the head when he spends - splashing hot on his face. It lands in thin white ropes over his lips and tongue, even shooting so far up as to his cheekbone. The man releases him at once and, not realizing how desperately he had relied on him for balance, Alexander tumbles forward as he does back. His filthy face (so filthy, so very perfect) dragging along the man's chest where he lands as Washington adjusts behind him to thrust into him harder.

“Touch him - Alexander, spend for us. Show your General how desperately you want for his body,” Washington rumbles, his voice could shake the very Earth to its core and shatter mountains to their tops as the slick sound of skin on skin echos through the tent paired only by Alexander's now-freed cries of pleasure and need.

All it takes is two passes of Lafayette’s hand and he shudders and shakes and tenses and - possibly - blacks out, if only for just a breath. He cannot stay so gone for too long, however, because blunt nails are digging into his hips and one final, jarring, thrust behind him presses so deep into Alexander’s twitching and tensing body and he can feel his General’s heat flooding through him. He has never felt so claimed - so dutifully taken.

They remain like that, Washington’s head hanging as sweat drips down onto Alexander’s back. His own face smearing semen along Lafayette’s heaving and sweat-drenched chest. He feels the General soften inside him, slipping free with an angry hiss from Alexander and a sore protest from his body - it hurt so going in, surely it would on its way out as well - and there is a bit of his seed dripping down his shaking thigh.

The bed creaks and the dip in it is gone, missing as well the heat that had radiated from the General’s body. Lafayette’s arms wrap around Alexander and his legs finally give under the weight of his body - the man beneath him grunts but does not complain, instead nuzzling the crown of his head and presenting him with kisses. He glances wildly in the short field of vision he has for the missing General - half-worried he will simply vanish. “He will return shortly, he just fetches a damp rag to clean you with,” the Marquis assures with a kiss to his seed-stained lips.

“And you yourself,” Alexander adds, a shift of his body highlighting the slick mess between them, “I had not intended to do that, to rub a man's own release against him strikes me as ungentlemanly.”

“It is nothing to fret over,” he hums, “it is far from the worst mess created.”

Washington returns shortly after that, Lafayette scooting the two of them closer to the edge of the bed to make space for the man. He lies beside them, scooping Alexander against his own powerful chest as if he were nothing more than just a babe, his hands are gentle as he cleans the mess from his thighs and stomach. Lafayette kisses over the proof of their coupling left to dry on Alexander’s face and he groans to watch them share a slick kiss above his own head before he could steal one from Washington (and then from Lafayette and back once more).

He is in the midsts of warring his tongue against the Frenchman's when Washington asks, “Should I inquire what I did to deserve such a gift awaiting me?”

Lafayette pulls back first, letting Alexander chase his lips for another quick kiss before he settles into his space between the two men. “You were rather tense, the stress weighed so heavily upon you, my General,” he says, wrapping an arm around Alexander, “it was the best way we could think to assist you in… unwinding.”

He casts his eyes about the pair, calculating as ever before a rare and treasured smile curls at the General’s lips. “What should I ever do without you two here?”

“Shout at Colonel Tilghman more?”

**Author's Note:**

> Ask me questions, give me prompts or just yell at me in general over on [Tumblr](http://tooeasilyconsidered.tumblr.com)


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